


The NERVE

by InuShiek



Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, NSFW, Sticky, solo hate sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-11
Updated: 2014-03-11
Packaged: 2018-01-15 08:31:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1298296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InuShiek/pseuds/InuShiek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a Christmas gift from his buddy forces him to barricade himself in a supply closet, he decides that he hates human holidays.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The NERVE

**Author's Note:**

> A Christmas gift for thatsmetal55 on tumblr. she loves her cannon fodder masturbating <3

The  _nerve_!

The vehicon seethes as he double checks that the hallway is empty before he ducks into a supply closet.

"That was on purpose! That little slag sucker!"

He’d mentioned being bored and out of things to read, so his roommate had given him an early Christmas gift. Stupid human holiday, if  _this_  is what it earns him- a video of Starscream in the washracks (no doubt filmed without his consent) in place of the promised novel.

Frag it, he’d been about to settle down for his evening ration, planning to start on this new novel when suddenly there was footage of the slim seeker covered in suds as solvent streaked down his frame and his wings flicked the excess off and he bent over to wash his pedes and-

The vehicon groans, slumping down against the back wall as he opens his panel as quickly as he can. Hissing, he wraps his hand around his spike and squeezes the base. “Fragging  _slag sucker_!” he curses his roommate breathlessly as he slides his hand up, teasing the tip of his spike with his thumb, “I’m going to murder him!”

And it wasn’t even like he  _liked_  the seeker. Primus, that mech’s personality was like a belt sander against his plating, but he couldn’t deny that he was physically attractive- no one could.

So now here he sits, hidden away in a grimy supply closet, vents roaring, as he works his spike and valve to just  _get rid of this fragging charge he didn’t ask for_.

"It’s not fair," he gasps, pulling his digits free of his valve to trace them up along his abdomen, "I should make him help me,  _then_  murder him. Oh frag!”

Heels digging into the floor, the vehicon’s engine revs sharply as he tightens his grip on his spike and works his digits into a sensitive seam on his side. “Murder him!” he whines, so close to his stupid overload.


End file.
